trust
by esmeaplatt
Summary: Esme shares her story with Carlisle.


**trust**

* * *

Esme sighed sadly as she turned the page of her newest novel. The kind man that was a monster behind closed doors made the image of her husband pop into her head. She shuddered at the sight of his face, of his mustache that she'd hated so much and those dark, dark eyes that terrified her.

"Esme." Came Edward's voice from across the room.

She tried to shake the image from her head but her husband was always persistent. He just wouldn't go away. Within seconds he was reaching for her, grabbing her roughly to-

"Esme!" Edward exclaimed, making her jump.

Carlisle lifted his head from his book. "Edward." He said, his voice nearly stern as he looked at the boy.

Edward shook his head and stood from his seat across the room. He tossed his book down on the chair and rushed out of the room and then the front door, darting into the woods.

"What was that about?" Carlisle asked.

"My memories upset him." Esme murmured as she fiddled with the corner of the book's page. She'd only been with them for a few weeks and already she'd made Edward suffer. "I wish I could stop them. He's far too young to be subjected to- to my troubles."

Carlisle was quiet for a moment, watching the way her fingers moved nervously against the book. Their relationship was a bit strange. He was drawn to her in every way. She was kind and funny but healing from horrors she'd yet to share with him. His newest goal was insuring her happiness, in making sure that she felt safe and loved with them.

"Esme, if…if you ever need to talk, I'd be happy to listen."

She lifted her eyes to his, shifting on the small sofa. He was sitting across from her, his golden eyes that she couldn't wait to have herself watching her with sympathy. "I don't want to burden you with my problems either, Carlisle. You've been so kind to me."

"You could never be a burden, Esme, I promise you that."

Esme was quiet, tracing her index finger over the text of her book, the name of the man that had sparked such unhappy memories.

"My husband- he…was a really bad man." Esme murmured so quietly that had it not been for his enhanced hearing Carlisle would have missed it. "I hadn't wanted to get married but my parents were getting older, as was I, so I agreed to marry Charles. He was a bit of a compromise- I would finally marry but he was not one of the country boys my parents had wanted me to court."

"You did not want to get married?" Carlisle asked her.

She shrugged. "Maybe one day I would have but I wanted to travel and have adventures." Esme laughs self deprecatingly. "I know that sounds a bit silly."

"Not at all." Carlisle assures her. "There's nothing wrong with wanting more from life."

"I wanted to move out West to become a schoolteacher. Do you remember me telling you that back in 1911?"

The doctor smiled. "I do. I thought you were so bright. I was rooting for you."

"You were the only one who refrained from telling me that I was just a naive little girl. You were the only one who ever supported that dream." She lifted her eyes to his again, hesitating a moment before leaning closer to take his hand from where he sat across from her. Carlisle let her hold his hand in hers, his thumb moving back and forth along her soft skin. "You have no idea how much that meant to me."

Carlisle smiled sadly. "I wish life had been kinder to you, Esme."

"So do I." Esme whispered as she let his hand go and sat back. "So, I- um, I married Charles. I didn't love him but I was sure that love would come. He was very charming. Witty. I could see myself falling in love with him."

Carlisle listened intently as she spoke.

"The wedding was fine. Not what I'd always imagined my wedding to be but…" She trailed off, looking down at her hands. "I saw who he really was on our wedding night. I was nervous, scared. He was so impatient, so angry with me for making him wait. He just did whatever he wanted and then left to go get drunk with his friends at the local bar."

"I'm so sorry." Carlisle breathed, watching as she picked at the indestructible skin around her fingernails, a nervous habit she must have had as a human.

"I wish that was the worst of what he did but- he was awful. I never did anything right. He hated my cooking, the way I cleaned the house, my clothes, my hair, me. Everything I did set him off. And it didn't help that I was so…so clumsy and forgetful."

"It wasn't your fault." Carlisle said quickly.

Esme gave him a small, sad smile. "I should have been better. I know that I'm not to blame for all of it. I didn't deserve all of the violence but I wasn't perfect."

Carlisle shook his head. "Esme, it doesn't matter what you did. He should not have laid a hand on you that wasn't loving."

Esme closed the book resting on her lap, setting it aside as she let his words sink in. She wanted to argue but thought better of it. "I ran away after four years. I found out that I was pregnant and decided that I couldn't let my baby grow up in that house. So one day while Charles was at work, I gathered up the spare change I'd managed to save and ran to a friend's house. She gave me some money for a train ticket. I made my way out West, met up with my cousin who helped me get set up with a job at a small school. I got a little apartment. I was scared but also living out that old dream in a way."

"And then your baby…" Carlisle said softly. He knew this part, had found out about the death of her son when he'd gone to the store during her transformation to wipe her existence from hospital records.

"He was so beautiful, Carlisle. He had the cutest little nose. And those eyes…" Her voice wavered. "His hair looked like mine. Cute little caramel curls."

"He sounds adorable."

"He was. I wish you could have met him. You and Edward- you both would have loved him."

"I'm sure we would have." Carlisle said softly. "I'm so sorry that this happened to you, Esme."

Esme nodded, lifting her hand to wipe at the tears that would never come. "So now you know everything."

"Thank you for trusting me with your story."

She couldn't help but smile slightly, her eyes fixed on the pattern on her skirt. "You and Edward are about the only people I trust."

The two of them sat in a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the wood crackling in the fireplace

"You know, I- I went to my parents for help one day but they told me that it was my fault. That if I'd been a better wife…"

"No," Carlisle said, his voice deeper than she'd ever heard it. "they were wrong. They should have helped you."

Carlisle hesitantly stood and moved to sit beside Esme. His hand hovered for a moment before carefully taking hers.

She didn't pull her hand back, squeezing gently. Her newborn strength made the gentle touch slightly firmer than she'd anticipated but he didn't mind. "If it had been my child, I would have done everything to help them."

Carlisle nodded. "Because you're a good mother. A good person."

Esme leaned against his side in a move that surprised both of them. She didn't move away, though, her cheek against his shoulder as she sighed. "Talking helps."

"Good. I'm glad." He replied, resting his head against hers as he wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders. His 17th century ideas of touch and intimacy were telling him to pull away but he couldn't bring himself to do so. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here."

"You too." She tells him, poking at his knee with her finger. "You can talk to me too."


End file.
